


Airports and Hostels

by gravyshoes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe: Travel, Bickering, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smoking, They're both nerds, Travel, gay bars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravyshoes/pseuds/gravyshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Steve go on a month-long trip to Europe after high school. What comes next is uncomfortable hostel beds, strange locals, and the ongoing urge not to fall in love with your best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Deodorant?”

“Yup.”

“Face wash?”

“You know it.”

“A sufficient amount of underwear?”

Bucky whipped his head up, “Okay but what qualifies as ‘sufficient’?”

Steve snorted, “At least 6-7 pairs.” They’ve been packing together for the past 3 hours, and making sure he hasn’t forgotten anything has turned into the repetitive task of a mother hen.

“In what world does anyone need 6-7 pairs of underwear for a month-long vacation,” Bucky asked, annoyed.

Steve stared at him. “The same one you’re living in, Buck.” Steve threw a bag of Q-tips and nail trimmers onto Bucky’s backpack. “Which city are you most excited for?”

Bucky stared at the ceiling in thought, “Amterdam probably. Can you imagine all the gay bars? And the legal substances?”

Steve huffed. “We’re not buying any ‘legal substances’ while abroad, Bucky.”

“Alright wow, way to take the fun out of it.”

They were leaving for Europe in 5 days and Steve was more stressed than he’s ever been about anything. He stayed up at night imagining the worst possible scenarios: missing their connecting flights, getting on the wrong bus/train, losing their luggage, etc. Both Bucky and Steve have already gotten their foreign cash, called their credit card companies to say their going abroad, and cancelled their phone coverage for the month, but the looming threat of forgetting something was still weighing heavily on their minds. With only days left, Steve never took advantage of the soft comforts of his own bed and the warm familiarity of his own shower.

***

Bucky sat cramped between Steve and their luggage in the backseat while driving to the airport. His heart was racing with excitement and anxiety as they made their way down Belt Parkway.

“I just can’t wait for you two to experience independent travel,” George Barnes stated excitedly while looking back and forth between the road and the rear-view mirror.

“After this trip, your backpack will become your best friend,” Winifred added warmly. Steve highly doubted this, since his backpack has been only causing his back problems so far.

The Barnes family and Steve parked in front of Departures, loaded their 30+ pound backpacks onto their shoulders, and said their teary goodbyes. 

“You two better stay out of trouble, you hear me? That’s including you too, Steve. You’re a part of this family as much as anybody,” stated Winifred. Steve felt his throat closing up and his eyes stinging with tears, but held them back as he gave a stern nod. 

“I know you two will be good. I hope you have an easy enough time finding your hostels,” George included. Bucky was appreciative of the good karma he was sending their way. Steve and Bucky dropped their over-packed bags into the Luggage Drop-Off and disappeared into Security.

Steve saw Bucky subtlety wiping his eyes, “You gonna miss seeing your parents for a month?” Steve teased.

“No,” Bucky replied. “I’m gonna miss my dog.”

***

The two sat in the uncomfortable airport seats, mostly bickering about how to connect to the wifi and what they want to do when they first get to Dublin. 

“If we’re going to Dublin, we have to go to the pubs and interact with the locals. It’d be a crime not to,” argued Steve.

“But, that being said, what do they serve in local pubs? Local beers. Which means we gotta go to the source of the Irish-Pub atmosphere. The Guinness Storehouse is where we gotta start out.”

Steve snorted. “Alright. If that’s where you want to start, then we can. But then mingling with the locals, okay?”

“Damn rights I do,” Bucky stated. “How can we touch the hearts of the locals if we don’t even know how their signature beer is made?” 

The seven hour-long flight from JFK to Dublin was long and tedious. They had wondered why their roundtrip flight was so cheap, but upon boarding the plane, they found out why: the middle seats in the middle isle, and the absolute last row: Row 42. Seated beside a smelly old man and a priest. Their in-flight dinner was supposedly “beef and noodles”, although it looked more like mush with a side of Jello. 

Steve looked over to see if Bucky was sleeping, and saw his eyes closed, eyelashes brushing his cheeks, headphones still in his ears with the low rumble of “Fight Club” from the screen in front of him. Steve felt a surge of envy towards Bucky being able to fall asleep on a plane. Ever since Steve was a child, he had never been able to sleep in any moving object, whether it be a car, train, or plane. He put on a slow and downtempo playlist, and pulled his Olympic U.S.A beanie over his eyes and attempted to have a nap.

Bucky and Steve were nudged awake by the flight attendant serving tea and breakfast croissants. They accepted them gratefully and looked at the time. Nine in the morning. Which was approximately 4 A.M. New York time. They looked at each other, groaned, and generously drank their tea. They both needed a refill within the next 10 minutes.

Touching down after what seemed like an eternity, the two got up and stretched their legs while everyone was grabbing their bags. That was before they remembered they were quite literally the very last row on the plane, and waited for the rows of people to pack their things and shuffle along the tight walkways. 

The Dublin airport seemed like a series of long hallways, all lined with portraits of Irish locals, all between the ages of 5 to 75, and all “represent the citizenry of the island of Ireland”. Bucky looked at every face as he walked by, wondering the history of each local he passed. Wondering if the young girl knew what she wanted to be when she grew up, what her favourite subject was in school. They both made it through the last hallway which led to the luggage carousels, and impatiently waited for their over-packed bags. Bucky and Steve threw them onto their sore shoulders, smiled wide at each other, and headed through the bright exit doors and into the crisp Dublin morning.


	2. Dublin: Day 1

“Okay so do you actually know where the bus station is, or are you just making things up as we go for this entire trip?” Bucky asked, who swears he’s walked down this same sidewalk at least 4 times in the last 5 minutes.

“I know we have to take bus 747,” Steve said, frustrated. “And I know it’s along this part of the airport, the hard part being that there’s 7 different bus stops to choose from.”

“Do you think that maybe,” Bucky paused for effect, “the bus stop is the one with the bright colours saying Bus 747?” Bucky asks sarcastically. Steve follows Bucky's pointed finger to the correctly labeled bus stop, and mutters “Yeah, alright,” under his breath.

They board the cramped bus, sat themselves on the wooden benches, and eagerly looked out the windows at the bombardment of new scenery. Even if it was the ditches along the freeway, every space of grass was bright green, and the trees were thriving. There were some industrial sections that looked run-down and shady, and Bucky had to remind himself that every city has their own problems, whether it be homelessness, dodgy neighbourhoods, or the occasional hard-to-look-at industrial section. Bucky had to remind himself that even though he is on the other side of the world, that doesn’t mean that perfect cities exist. So he continued to look at the outskirts, trying to understand both the struggles and the growth of the city and they neared the inner-workings of Dublin.

“Okay this is our stop coming up, get your backpack on,” Steve said, pulling his backpack over this shoulders. Bucky groaned as he pulled the uncomfortable straps onto his back. They quickly made their way down to the bottom floor of the bus, and when they stepped off the bus and onto the bustling sidewalks of O’Connell Street, the commotion of the busy city awaking their jet-lagged minds. 

“Okay, so to get to the hostel, we have to cross this bridge then make a right.” Steve said matter-of-factly. 

“How in the world do you possibly know that? We’ve never even been here before,” Bucky stated, jet-lag overpowering any sense of politeness he had left in his body.

“Well, unlike you, I actually plan things out in advance, and I might have Google Street-Viewed this many times before we actually got here.” Steve admitted.

As Steve predicted, the hostel was indeed across the bridge and to the right. Abigail’s Hostel had two heavy doors which opened up into a spacious communal area, loaded with leather couches and flat-screen TV’s. Still only being 11 A.M., the cleanup from breakfast was still underway and the couches were littered with guests sending off their morning e-mail to their parents or posting their newest adventure to Facebook. Steve and Bucky signed in, and lugged their huge backpacks up the two flights of stairs to their room. It had 5 tall stacks of bunkbeds, which some of them were occupied with guests who are clearly not morning people. The room had two huge windows overlooking River Liffey, with heavy red blinds still drawn to keep the still-sleeping guests comfortable. They found the only unoccupied bunkbed, threw their bags onto it, and immediately went into the shower. Bucky wanted to wash all the travel grime off his exhausted body, but the shower being the size of linen closet didn’t make it the most refreshing experience.

With clean hair and lighter bags on their shoulders, Steve and Bucky headed out into the heart of Dublin. While walking over the very busy O’Connell Bridge, Steve noticed that there is absolutely no courtesy when it comes to walking as a pedestrian. In North America, it is general knowledge to walk on the right side of the sidewalk, mimicking the patterns of the road. In Dublin however, locals and tourists alike walked any which way they pleased, which made for a slow crawl of shoulder bumps and ‘Sorry, excuse me!’’s. The two veered off to a side street and Steve could finally breathe for once. The anxiety in his chest bubbled down as he followed Bucky’s lead down the cobblestone street.

The boys walked along the wide streets, crossed many bridges, and finally made it to a park just beside Grafton Street. The entrance to St. Stephen’s Green had a massive stone archway which led to a pathway lined with lush trees. They walked the outermost path, and had a rest on a bench overlooking a fountain and floral display.

“We’re in a different continent,” Bucky pointed out.

“Yup,” Steve agreed, his exhaustion catching up with him.

“Like,” Bucky went on, “We crossed an entire ocean. And now we’re on the other side of the world. We’ve done so much today and people in New York haven’t even woken up yet.”

Steve laughed. “This is too much for my brain to compute right now. I don’t even feel like I’m alive to be completely honest.” The boys looked at each other and started laughing out of the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“Should we head back to the hostel?” Bucky asked, “I’m afraid I might pass out right in the middle of Grafton Street.”

The two headed back down the crowded streets to the hostel, and made no protest when they saw an empty couch in the common room. Charging their phones, they checked their Facebooks to see the countless well-wishes from friends and family alike. Steve was smiling to himself at a comment from Sam that said “he hadn’t even noticed that he left”, when he saw Bucky’s eyes slowly closing.

“Hey!” Steve kicked him and Bucky’s head snapped up. “We have to stay awake or else we’ll never have a normal sleep schedule.”

Bucky looked at the clock and groaned when he saw it was only 2 P.M. “How do you expect me to stay awake for another 6 hours? What kind of robotic being do you think I am?”

“We just need to keep ourselves occupied,” Steve yawned. “I saw there was a famine statue down the river, do you want to walk there and see it?”

“If it makes you happy, Stevie.”

Steve and Bucky dragged their heavy feet down the riverside walkway for what felt like hours. They must have walked 20 blocks and still had no sign of the Famine Memorial.

“Steve, it’s not here. We gotta go back,” Bucky pleaded.

Steve stopped in his tracks and looks defeated down the walkway. “But Google said it was here. Why would Google lie to me?” he slurred.

“Come on,” Bucky said softly. He wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulder as they turned around. They stopped for one quick picture at an odd monument, but all Bucky was willing to do was stand beside it and point at it with a completely neutral face. Steve laughed for 5 minutes straight.

“What do you think that bridge is called?” Bucky asked, pointing at the Samuel Beckett Bridge.

“I dunno, Buck,” Steve could hardly formulate words anymore.

“I think it looks like a whale,” Bucky slurred. “I think, I think I wanna name it the Baleen Bridge.”

Steve clapped his hands together. “It’s law.”

“Nice,” Bucky deadpanned.

“So,” Steve started, “since the legal drinking age here is 18… and we’re 18… what should my first legal drink be?”

Bucky closed his eyes in thought. “I thought… I thought you wanted to go to that restaurant we saw on Grafton Street? Wasn’t it called Captain America’s?” They walked up to an intersection and stood among the other pedestrians.

“No… Buck… Listen… What should my first DRINK be?”

“Dude, you already told me,” Bucky slurred, “You wanna go to Captain America’s. I know.” The other pedestrians started looking at the pair, wondering why these American tourists sounded drunk at 3 in the afternoon.

“Bucky,” Steve put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and looked into his grey eyes, “A drink. A physical drink. What should it be?”

The light turned green and Steve lowered his hands and crossed the street. Bucky stood there for a moment before shaking himself and catching up to Steve.

“A mojito,” Bucky suggested.

“First time in Ireland and we’re going to an Americanized restaurant and getting a Cuban drink. Classic.”

It was around 5 P.M. before they came back to the hostel, and immediately went up to their room and changed into pajamas. Having it be so early in the evening, the room was completely empty which means they could fall asleep at 5 in the afternoon without any judgement.

Bucky laid in the bottom bunk and stared at the bed above him. The excitement of being in a new country has worn off, and now the panic has started to set in. He was alone in a strange country with his best friend, with no family support and no comfort from his dog.

Steve was just about to fall asleep as he hear soft sobs coming from the bed beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes there's a restaurant in Dublin called Captain America's. And yes it's amazing.


	3. Dublin: Day 2

Bucky and Steve were rudely awakened multiple times throughout the night from their roommates coming in from their night out. With the world still dark outside, Steve awoke and couldn’t fall back asleep. He reached for his phone and saw 4 A.M.

“Fucking jetlag,” he whispered to himself. The only upside to being up this early was that it was 8 P.M. New York time, and maybe he was able to talk with someone. He opened up Facebook and saw Sam Wilson online. The conversation started out simple enough, talking about their newest adventures and the neat buildings they’ve seen, until:

“wait, what time is it there? isn’t it like fucking 4am right now?” Sam typed.

“yup!!!!!!!!!!!!! :) :) :)” Steve replied.

 

Steve laid wide awake until it was a reasonable time to get up, and joined Bucky downstairs for their free breakfast. Hostels usually serve “dry breakfast”, typically including nothing but cereal and toast, but Abigail’s had a large bowl of strawberry yogurt, so Steve classified that as a treat. Bucky got up to get them both some English Breakfast tea (the only kind they serve apparently), and put the two mugs on their table. 

Although Abigail’s was considered a “youth hostel”, the more they looked around the common room, the more they realized that label was false. They saw people ranging from families with 7 year-old children to backpackers in their late-60s. The diversity amongst the guests was staggering, and Bucky felt a rush of appreciation for the people travelling from all over the world to see Dublin.

“Alright so, Guinness Storehouse today?” Steve asked between mouthfuls of yogurt.

“Oh hell yeah. I’m down for anything that includes a free pint. And there’s a room on top of the building that’s all glass and has a 360 degree view,” Bucky gushed.

“Don’t you not even like beer?”

“I will if it’s local.”

Steve snorted. He absentmindedly opened the weather map. “What kind of weather is this? Sunny for an hour, rain for two hours, then back to sunny?” Steve said, frustrated.

“That’s what happens when your biggest mountains are actually just grassy knolls.”

 

More alert than yesterday, Bucky and Steve walked the same streets as they did the day before and took some pictures. Alongside the realization that no one here has sidewalk courtesy, Steve also noticed that there are practically no street signs anywhere.

“Who built this city?” Steve practically yelled. “It’s like the streets are like ‘Oh, you wanna know where you’re going? Too bad. Welcome to the real world, jackass.’”

Bucky laughed heartily as they blindly turned up a street, hoping it’s in the right direction of the Storehouse. 

The Guinness Storehouse was a cylinder shaped building that took you through the many different steps to making the iconic dark beer. The descriptions and how they obtain each ingredient, the brewing process, and even a taste testing room. The room had three podiums that emitted the aroma of each of the three ingredients, and Bucky practically ran to each ingredient and sniffed them excitedly. Steve took embarrassing pictures from afar.

“Steve!” Bucky hissed while aggressively pointing to a mini bar. “We get a free taste-test!”

“Oh my god!” Steve mocked excitement. “You’re definitely going to enjoy this!”

Bucky nodded eagerly, ignoring Steve’s sarcasm.

They stood in the room with the other tourists and listened intently to the guide as he explained how to “properly” experience the beer.

“Alright, enjoy!” the guide said as he lifted his small glass. The crowd made a half-assed cheer as they started to drink their sample.

Steve downed his in one go and grimaced. The tourists were smacking their lips and marveling at the rich taste. Meanwhile, Steve looked over to Bucky and saw him with a half-full glass and wide eyes.

“What’s the matter, Buck?” Steve cooed. Bucky’s face twisted into a silent scream.

“Why did I think this was a good idea?” Bucky whispered, setting his glass on the nearest table.

“You are literally the worst,” Steve stated impassively, placing his palm against Bucky’s back and started pushing him out of the room. “Just because you’re in a different country doesn’t mean that your taste buds will suddenly accept the taste of beer.”

“I thought they would!” Bucky said defensively, throwing his hands in the air. “I thought the Irish charm would cure me of this disease!”

Steve and Bucky practically ran up the stairs to the “Gravity Bar”. The circular glass room had a 360 degree view of downtown Dublin and all its suburbs and of course, the bar where your free pint is served. Steve went up to the bar and put down his ticket, and watched the bartenders at their best. The bar was lined with ¾ full pints, waiting until they settle into their deep brown colour. The two watched in amazement as the bartenders filled up an exceptional amount of pints, but quizzical when they started shaking the glasses once they were done filling them. It wasn’t until Steve grabbed his own that he realized they drew shamrocks into the foam with the beer spout.

“Yoooooo!” Steve exclaimed, pointing to the pint.

“YOOOOOOOOO!” Bucky yelled when he saw the shamrock, and whispered “fucking genies” to himself.

The two stood at the floor-to-ceiling window and spent 20 minutes pointing to places they’ve been, and trying to find their hostel. Steve could see Bucky’s huge grin in the reflection, and a rush of warmth lit up his chest. He quickly looked away.

“So are you actually going to drink this thing?” Steve held up the pint, slippery with condensation.

“No, but I’m going to take a picture with it so it looks like I did.”

Steve took the picture to look like Bucky is happily slurping his free pint, but in reality Bucky spat it out once Steve lowered his phone.

***

The pair walked down the bustling Grafton Street, and approached the Captain America’s entrance.

“I can’t believe this place even exists,” Steve complained. “Like, what country are we in right now?”

The stairs leading up to the restaurant were covered in comics, and everything they could see was either red, white, or blue.

They were seated in a booth, and the wall beside them was littered with pictures of celebrities who have eaten there.  
“Holy shit!” Steve burst. “We’re eating in the same place that Bono eats!” Three pictures up, was indeed a picture of the chef and Bono, autograph and all.

Steve ordered his mojito, and immediately wanted Bucky to capture the iconic moment of his first legal drink. Bucky got out his phone, and Steve pointed to the glass with a blank expression, mimicking Bucky from the day before.

“God, I hate you,” Bucky laughed, lowering his phone.

“I love U 2,” Steve replied, pointing to the picture of Bono.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How could I resist the pun? How?
> 
> Also, you can take a virtual tour of the Storehouse on Google Maps and it's cool as hell, go look at it!!


	4. Dublin: Days 3-5

With stiff shoulders and sore necks, Bucky and Steve woke up earlier than their other hostel roommates, even though it was 8 A.M. and the Irish morning sun was peeking through the heavy curtains. Steve was awoken many times throughout the night from other people’s loud snoring or the occasional cringe-worthy sound of grinding teeth, so he didn’t care if he woke them up early with him showering. They deserved it.

Another morning of dry breakfast, yogurt, and the obligatory mug of English Breakfast, and the two overlooked the pamphlet of the Wicklow tour they were going on in the next hour. The tour included a hike through the Wicklow Mountains, lunch in the town of Enniskerry, and a walk through the Glendalough cemetery. Bucky couldn’t wait to get out of the city and see the countryside, and the two practically ran to the bus’s meeting place. 

The bus was very small (“More like a van...” Bucky muttered), and it was crammed with people from all over the world, including the Irish native tour guide. They twisted around the confusing Dublin streets, listening to the brief but interesting history of Ireland. The one story that stuck out to Steve was the story of the painted doors. Supposedly, one of the stories explaining why some of the Georgian houses had brightly coloured doors was that when Queen Victoria passed, England ordered them to paint their doors black in mourning of their queen. In turn, they painted their doors in the brightest colours possible. Steve didn’t know how true the myth was, but he loved the rebelliousness all the same.

The two watched the city disperse into run-down suburbs, then into green rolling hills. The guide continued on with her history lesson (Bucky was mortified to learn only 2% of the population speaks Irish), and the bus slowly rolled onto the road’s shoulder in front of the entrance to the hiking trail. The two talked with the other guests, some from Norway, some from California, as they made their way through the forest. The trail looked very much like the Pacific Northwest, lush with greens on every spectrum, rich dark soil beneath their feet, and moss and Old Man’s Beard growing on any surface they can find. Bucky’s heavy boots were not practical for their hike, and Steve snorted every time he tripped over the smallest rock.

After 15 grueling minutes of an uphill climb, they made it to their first lookout point. The cliff was surrounded by the iconic rolling hills, and the farmland acting as a quilt below them. Bucky and Steve saw the other guests using this opportunity to get pictures, and Bucky thought it wasn’t a bad idea to get their first picture together, mostly to send to his parents to say “Look we’re not dead, and we don’t hate each other yet!”

Bucky passed his phone to one of the girls from Norway, and the two stood beside each other with forced smiles. The wind chose this exact moment to use its first big gust, and Bucky’s hair flew in every direction, and the both of them laughed as Bucky tried to get it back into place. The Norwegian girl passed back Bucky’s phone with a smirk, and the two looked through the pictures and could see why: one had their prom-esque smiles, and one made Steve’s heart leap. The two of them laughing, Bucky with a hand on the side of his face with attempts to tame his hair.

“This one’s great!” Bucky pointed to his phone, smiling wide. Steve nodded and tried to wipe the smile off his face for the rest of the hike.

The group made it to the final hill, complete with 360◦ views and wind that could knock you over. It whipped Steve’s windbreaker like a flag, and the whistling in his ears were deafening. Luckily the wind wasn’t cold,-the May sunshine made sure of that-and the two of them had a great time seeing how far they could lean into the wind.

“Is it usually like this?” Steve yelled.

“No!” cried the guide, desperately holding onto her hood. “I honestly don’t know why this is happening! You Americans must have brought a curse with you!”

Bucky stood on the edge of the hill trying to get a video of the amazing panoramic views of Dublin and the farmland surrounding it. The gusts were getting more insistent with each push, and one made Bucky lose his footing. He tumbled backwards, directly into Steve. 

The two of them slammed onto their backs, crushing all the contents of their backpacks. They laid there groaning, turned to face each other, then burst into laughter. Steve stood up chuckling, wiping away a tear and offering Bucky a hand. Bucky accepted it gratefully, stumbling to his feet. They could see the group of middle-aged women snickering at them.

After the guide witnessed Steve and Bucky’s fall, she decided to take everyone back down the hill. The two of them thought the “pointing with a blank expression” pose was too good to pass up, and eventually every photo-op they had along the trail had one of them pointing to it in the foreground. Before they knew it, they were back in the bus, all piling in for the short drive to Enniskerry.

 

The village of Enniskerry has a population of 1,800, and is known for the popular tourist destination of Powerscourt House. The main square, more of a triangle really, has a large clock tower in its centre, and shops surrounding it. Most of the other tourists went to a restaurant called ‘Poppy’s’ for lunch, but being the cheap bastards that Steve and Bucky are, they brought their own lunch. Their “lunch” consisted of multiple granola bars and Babybell cheeses, both squished from their fall earlier. They reluctantly opened them, and ate quietly on a bench beside the clock tower. 

“This is my favourite day so far,” Bucky stated.

“The day’s only half over, Buck,” Steve replied, biting into a Babybell.

“I don’t care. I love seeing the villages. I love seeing the farms and the untouched hills. You don’t see that in New York.”

“Yeah, me too,” Steve smiled.

After finishing their innutritious lunch, the two went in search for a bathroom. Finding one at the bottom of the hill, they both turned away when they found out they had to pay €2 to use it.

“I will not pee for a fee,” Steve mumbled.

 

Eventually the group got into the bus again, and took the R115 through the Wicklow Mountains. The road was long and winding, green and brown as far as the eye could see. The guide was teaching them about peat, and how some of the iconic “bog mummies” were formed. Along the way they made a few stops, one at the lake of Lough Bay Upper, Lough Tay which is famous for the lake looking like a pint of Guinness, and finally at the iconic bridge that “PS I Love You” was filmed on. 

The group stepped out into the now biting wind, and some of the middle-aged women squealed as they stepped onto the bridge. It wasn’t much to see, just a small stone bridge with a dribbling stream of water underneath it.

“Have you ever seen PS I Love You?” Bucky asked.

“Nope,” Steve replied with his cold hands shoved into his pockets, and shoulders up to his ears.

“Do you want to go back into the bus?” Bucky asked softly, one hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Yup.”

The narrow road seemed like it would never end, but they finally made it to Glendalough. Houses lined the street leading to the village, and then they saw the flock of tour buses. Although he himself is a tourist, Bucky felt a flare of annoyance at how such natural beauty is being sold to hundreds of tourists a day. He knew the irony of this situation, of course, so Bucky swallowed his pride as he stepped off the bus.

The Glendalough Cemetery was surprisingly quiet, seeing as how there was buses and vendors just one street over. The ground was covered in ancient headstones, and Bucky and Steve took the time to read almost all of them. Wondering who they were, how old they were when they died, if they were laid beside their loved ones. Bucky stared at one particular headstone, a girl of only 4 years. Steve walked up behind him and gently squeezed Bucky’s hand. He tore his eyes away from the aging headstone, gave Steve an appreciative smile, and they walked towards the cathedral.

The two caught up with their group, and heard the guide talking about how old the buildings were. One obvious sign of age was that the roof was made entirely of stone. Steve didn’t even notice when he first saw the old house, but the more he looked at it, the more he appreciated the work that went into the completely waterproof stone roof.

After learning more about the building’s history and a walk through the crumbling cathedral, the group had the choice to walk to different paths along the lake to where the bus was parked. Most of the group chose the Upper Lake route, so Steve and Bucky chose the Lower Lake path. The pair walked along the twisting boardwalk, past splashes of yellow from broom bushes and small groups of ducks. They talked about the future, and their time so far.

“You’re really good at this, you know,” Bucky said, looking up at the mountains.

“At what?” Steve asked, “Being a cliché tourist?” 

Bucky smiled. “No, just planning in general. So far this trip has been pretty flawless, all thanks to your hard work,” Bucky looked Steve in the eyes. “You’ve been obsessing about this trip for months now, you’ve basically memorized every street.”

“No I haven’t,” scoffed Steve, blushing.

“Oh yeah? Then what train are we supposed to take when we get to London?” 

“The Piccadilly line and then exchange to the Bakerloo line at Piccadilly Circus until we reach Lambeth North but that doesn’t matter.”

 

The trail lead into more bog land, and they were surrounded by twisting birch trees. Bucky and Steve took some more pictures, then walked over to the food stand beside the parked bus. The temperature dropped substantially over the last couple hours, and Steve ordered a hot chocolate with marshmallows. He happily slurped his cup of happiness while sitting at a picnic table, until he saw Bucky approaching him with his order. Bucky sat down across from Steve, a wide smile on his face, and an ice cream cone in hand.

“What part of your brain thought that was a good idea,” Steve deadpanned.

“Every single inch of it,” Bucky replied, taking a lick.

Eventually the whole group showed up, and for the final time, everyone piled back into the bus/van. When they left, it had been 9 A.M, and it was already quickly approaching 5 in the afternoon. The guide said over the loudspeaker that she’ll just put on some quiet music, and they can all relax for the drive back to Dublin. Steve slid into the window seat, Bucky beside him, and plugged his headphones in, playing Mind Over Matter by Young the Giant. 

Steve watched the scenery blurring past him, and could feel his eyes growing heavy. He knew this whole trip was a bad idea. He had had feelings for his best friend for as long as he could remember, so how would spending every minute of every day with him possibly help? He worked so hard to make this trip absolutely perfect, but now his feelings are going to get right in the way of that. 

Just as Steve was in his world of worry, Bucky gently placed his head on his shoulder. Steve smiled to himself, and closed his eyes.

***

Bucky and Steve only had 2 days left in Dublin, and Bucky made sure that they hit as many museums as possible. They first walked to National Museum of Ireland on the north side of River Liffey, and got absolutely soaked in the process. Of course the weather app didn’t predict rain, and Bucky believed that “one umbrella is enough for two people” and that he “didn’t need to buy his own”.

With his soaked jeans uncomfortably sticking to his thighs, Steve walked in tow of Bucky around the Museum of Decorative Arts and History, one of the two National Museums of Ireland. Bucky thought the place looked a lot like a prison, and the two left just after a few hours.

Wet and hungry, the two walked around Temple Bar trying to find something to eat. They bickered and snapped at each other, and Bucky would have been insulted at Steve’s tone if he wasn’t so damn hungry. While walking across a particularly confusing crosswalk, they heard a man yelling behind them.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?” The two whipped their heads around to find the man, but couldn’t spot him in the large crowd behind them.

“AFTER ALL THIS TIME, YOU COME INTO MY LIFE NOW? WHY NOW?”

Bucky was beet red, and Steve skipped laughing and went straight to crying at the ridiculous cat-call.

After recovering from oddest form of street harassment they’ve ever heard, they agreed on a burger joint and finally got out of the rain and into the Gourmet Burger Kitchen. The two didn’t say much, mostly checking their social media with the free wifi until the food came. Bucky had the Smoking Joe, and Steve the Habenero Chicken burger.

“Holy shit,” Bucky said with a mouthful of burger.

“I know,” Steve mumbled back.

“This is the best burger I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.”

“I KNOW,” Steve practically yelled.

“And I’m not even saying that because I’m starving,” Bucky said with another bite.

“Dude,” Steve looked into his eyes. “I know.”

 

The two visited the other National Museum with full bellies, and were stunned at how different it was from its sister museum. The Museum of Archaeology had Egyptian exhibits, and of course, the iconic bog mummies mentioned on their trip to Glendalough. Steve and Bucky went to each one, fascinated at the incredible preservation and leathery skin, and soon made their way out.

The rest of the day went by without further incident, but the boys wanted to do something fun in the evening since it was their first Saturday night in Europe. While getting dressed for the night, they noticed the majority of their hostel roommates emptied out, and new guests filled the spare beds. 

One of their new roommates was a college student named Monica, who they quickly befriended. The three of them sat in the hostel common room, drinking cheap drinks from the closest corner stores, and planned out what they wanted to do that night. Monica wanted to go to the oldest pubs in Dublin, and the boys had no obligations. 

Their first stop was The Brazen Head, the oldest pub in Dublin. The building was completely made of stone, and was much too dark and loud for Bucky’s liking. The crowd was mostly middle-aged men drinking Guinness, and the three of them quickly agreed that it just wasn’t the right mood.

The trio walked along the dark streets back to Temple Bar, and they learned more about Monica. She was from D.C, and had just finished an entire year abroad in Florence, Italy. When she confessed that she was already $120,000 in debt just from one year abroad, Steve choked.

They all made it back into the heart of Temple Bar, avoiding the drunk people crowding the cobblestone streets. They walked into The Temple Bar, which the area is named after, and they could barely even fit in the door. The Temple Bar was jam packed on a Saturday night, and Steve’s anxiety was growing heavy on his chest as he pushed through the crowd. Getting a drink at the bar was impossible, and it looked as though every single table was taken. Scanning the crowd, Steve finally saw an open “table”. The bar used old beer barrels as tables, and Steve’s bad mood made him scoff at the unoriginality. He waved over Bucky and Monica, and worked his way to the “table”. 

Before Steve got there, he felt a hand grab his right arm. Not in the mood, he whipped his head around to see the culprit. It was a table of 5 middle-aged men and Steve started them down.

“Hey, you lookin’ for a husband?” the man slurred.

Steve’s exhausted mind was working a mile a minute to try and figure out an answer to such a ridiculous question, but “nope” was all that came out his mouth as he pushed his way to the table.

With their big night fizzled out with everyone in a bad mood, Steve, Bucky and Monica headed back to Abigail’s hostel. They all mumbled a goodnight to each other, and Steve lay in his bunk thinking that the answer to that drunk’s question should have been “Yeah, you rich?”

***

Being their last day in Ireland, the day consisted of mundane tasks such as laundry, and stuffing everything back into their backpacks. Bucky lazily watched his clothes spin in the dryer.

“So, I think we should do something great for our last night here.”

Steve groaned. “But last night was such a bust, I don’t think I can deal with another night of drunk men.”

“OK but remember, we only went to normal bars,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow. “We still haven’t found the gems that are the Dublin Gay Nightlife.”

Steve could feel his face heating up. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to do.”

Bucky sat back in his chair triumphantly, and Steve knew tonight was going to be a test for him.

So yes, Steve still hadn’t told Bucky that he was bi. So what. He would get around to it. Bucky came out years ago, and the news was probably the best that Steve’s ever received. He thought his “crush” at the time would go one-sided forever, but he actually had a chance. Telling Bucky he was bi just felt like it was too much, or put too much pressure on their relationship, so Steve just bided his time and dropped subtle hints whenever he could.

They decided to go to The George, one of Dublin’s biggest gay clubs. Bucky confidentially walked into the huge purple building while Steve lingered outside. Anxiety clutching his chest, he soon followed Bucky in.

Once up the winding stairs, they could hear the booming music. Except for that it wasn’t the dance music Bucky was expecting, it sounded more theatrical. It wasn’t until they were up on the main floor, they realized it was the Love Medley from Moulin Rouge. Bucky whipped around to give a confused gaze, and Steve mirrored it. They looked over the crowded balcony, and saw two drag queens dramatically lip-syncing the musical. Steve and Bucky burst out laughing.

“I’ve never been to a drag show!” Bucky yelled.

“Neither have I!” Steve and Bucky then theatrically sang the song to each other, hand gestures and all. They could feel the stares of everyone around them, but the moment was too perfect for either of them to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off to London next!!
> 
> All of the places in Wicklow and Glendalough are gorgeous, so I definitely suggest going on Google Maps and Street Viewing a lot of the places they go to! Then you can see the same beauty they're seeing :)


	5. London: Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update took so long and is very short. I have no excuse.

“Okay. Fuck, Marry, Kill: the Harry Potter Trio.”

Bucky stared at Steve. “What in the hell kind of FMK is that?”

Steve raised his eyebrows. Bucky sighed.

“Fuck Ron, Marry Hermione, Kill Harry.”

“What has Harry ever done to you?” Steve asked between laughs.

Bucky threw his hands in the air. “Nothing! I just know Hermione would support me!” 

The two have been sitting in their designated gate at the Dublin airport for the past hour, and Steve’s laugh was loud enough to wake a baby two rows away. The mother glared at them.

After a while of passing-the-time games and cursing at the airport wi-fi, their plane to London was finally ready to board. The flight itself was quick, just over an hour, and before they knew it, they could spot the winding River Thames and maybe even a quick glimmer of Big Ben. Steve was highly amused at the complimentary bag of “crisps” he received.

Heathrow Airport was absolutely huge, and the two were extremely thankful for a) the well-marked signs and b) the large group of other passengers who apparently knew where they were going. They reached the luggage carousel, struggled to lift their 30lbs bags onto their backs, and headed towards the underground. The process of getting an Oyster Card and finding the right platform was stressful, but eventually Bucky and Steve piled into the crowded train. As Steve predicted, they did have to transfer at Piccadilly Circus, and change to the Bakerloo line. Steve confidently walked through the well-marked tunnels, leaving Bucky to blindly follow and wonder how the hell Steve knew where he’s going.

Reaching their final stop at Lambeth North, the two were welcomed by blinding sunlight as they left the station. Steve instructed that they make a right and walk two blocks to their hostel. When Bucky asked how he possibly knew that, Steve’s mouth replied with “magic” but his heart said “Google Maps”.

The Walrus Hostel was positioned practically right under train tracks leading to Waterloo Station, and the first vibe Bucky got was “sketchy”. That vibe slowly melted away as they entered the friendly hostel, and Steve felt right at home. The décor wasn’t anything extravagant, but very comfy and charming. The Walrus also served as a bar, and the bartender/receptionist was eager to get them to their rooms. The room was probably the biggest they’ve booked for the whole trip – 22 beds – but the room was surprisingly empty. The boys quickly slid their bags under the bunk, and headed out to see the classic tourist-traps of London.

 

Steve knew the hostel wasn’t too far away from the major attractions, so they both started walking west in hopes of finding something interesting.

“It doesn’t even feel like I’m in London right now,” Bucky said, kicking cigarette butts off the sidewalk.

“I know, right?” Steve replied. “I don’t even feel like I’m anywhere right now. We haven’t seen anything that screams ‘London’ so it feels like I’m just in some random city I’ve never been to before.”

“Holy shit.”

“What?”

“Literally just look right in front of you,” Bucky said stunned, pointing ahead of them.

Without them noticing, Bucky and Steve managed to walk onto Westminster Bridge. Big Ben was towering right in front of them.

“It’s so weird to see this in person,” Steve whispered, people bumping into their shoulders.

“Like, you’ve seen so many pictures of it,” Bucky’s mouth hung open. “But to see it with your own two eyes is so surreal.”

Bucky and Steve politely asked a middle-aged couple to take a picture for them in front of Big Ben, and they received yet another prom-esque picture to remember their trip by. Steve got a voluntary “point with a blank face” picture, and they were off again.

Walking down the unfamiliar roads of Westminster, Bucky had never felt more comfortable. Steve’s enthusiasm in getting them around safely warmed Bucky’s chest, and if he didn’t put his full trust in Steve, he sure did now. Bucky had absolutely no worries about getting lost as Steve promptly led them to Buckingham Palace.

The palace was crowded with tourists plastering themselves against the impressive gate to catch a glimpse of the iconic guards. The building was surrounded by lush green parks, with the Victoria Memorial statue and fountain in its centre. Bucky and Steve walked around and took pictures, and stopped in front of the bland rectangular building.

“Well.” Steve sighed.

“Well.”

“This is it.”

“Yup.”

“Buckingham Palace.”

“Yup.”

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

“Yup.”

The two made their way through Green Park as the rain started to dribble down.

“That definitely wasn’t as impressive as I thought it would be,” Steve said, pulling up his hood.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, it definitely wasn’t as big of a ‘LONDON!’ punch as Big Ben was.”

Steve laughed. “Is that how we’re gonna rate things now? How ‘LONDON!’ something is?” Steve yelled the word, and it made the pigeons scatter and Bucky bark out a laugh.

They kept walking down the now rain-soaked streets, thinking of different things that could be classified as ‘LONDON!’, until they reached Piccadilly Circus. The rain cast a dark and damp atmosphere, but the tall advertising screens lit up the square. The circus was still crawling with tourists even with the unfortunate weather, and the boys stood on the corner to watch the mayhem of vehicles and pedestrians.

“Now this,” Bucky gestured to the circus, “This is definitely classified as ‘LONDON!’”

Steve and Bucky made their way through the winding streets back to the hostel, stopping in interesting-looking shops, pressuring each other into buying ridiculous souvenirs, and bickering on whether they’re heading the right way or not. Walking down Northumberland Avenue (“This is the most ridiculously British road name I’ve ever heard,” Bucky scoffed), the two spotted the familiar and spidery Golden Jubilee Bridges. The bridges served no vehicle purpose, but instead served as a pedestrian and train bridge connecting to Waterloo Station: the station that their hostel is pretty much directly beneath. The bridge had a spectacular view of The Thames, with the monstrous London Eye and Big Ben in the foreground. The boys walked into the middle, and leaned against the wet railing.

“I feel very comfortable here,” Steve muttered. The rain has eased up, and the setting sun left the river shimmering. “I feel like we’re gonna have some great times here.”

“Yeah,” Bucky smiled at him, “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONDON!
> 
> Up next: These two idiots try and find as many Harry Potter related things as they possibly can.


	6. London: Day 2

Steve awoke to a bed spring digging into his hip and a crack of the morning sun shining into his bunk. A momentary panic with the unfamiliar surroundings jolted him out of bed, and Steve had to recount all the events of the day before to slow his heart. This happened his first night in Dublin as well; scrambling to remember why he was in a rock-hard bed surrounded by strangers before he realized he’s on the other side of the world. He took a deep breath, tiptoed across the room to where his phone was charging, and quietly crawled back into bed.

Scrolling through Facebook, Steve’s timeline was flooded with notifications from the pictures he’s been posting along the way. He posted one the night before of his selfie with Big Ben, the caption being: “Look. A clock. We don’t have those in America.” Steve was surprised by the amount of likes on it –thirty two- and he laughed when he saw Sam’s comment: “You’re not Ron Swanson u fucking meatball.” Steve switched over to Sam’s profile and wrote a quick message:

Survived my first night in London. Buckingham Palace was boring and I’ve had way too many perfect opportunities to tell Bucky how I feel and I’m slowly losing my mind. If you see a story on the news about an American flinging himself into The Thames don’t worry about it. Miss you buddy.

Steve sent the message, and headed over to Bucky’s profile to see what pictures he’s uploaded so far. He found Bucky’s Guinness picture, and quietly laughed to himself because he knew Bucky definitely wasn’t as happy slurping that pint as the picture suggests. Scrolling up another post, he found their Wicklow picture. The two of them laughing, Bucky’s hair in every direction, and the mismatched greens of the Irish countryside behind them. Steve’s heart warmed, and he stared at the picture a little longer than he should have. Steve saw something lower into his peripheral vision, and he looked up to see Bucky’s head hanging over the top bunk. Steve shoved his phone under the covers.

“Are you ready for our nerd day?” Bucky smiled, face turning red.

“I’m always a slut for Baker Street.”

The two quickly showered (Steve was surprised by how spacious they were), and hurried into the bar/common area before they missed breakfast. It was a dry breakfast, the same they had at Abigail’s, but this time no yogurt. Bucky almost screamed when he saw there was Nutella for his toast. 

The bar/common area had a bohemian feel: warm, wooden framework, colourful and miss-matched furniture, with a large Union Jack on the back wall. Steve and Bucky brought their toast and cereal to a sunken purple couch, and Bucky went to get them a drink. The bar had a large metal canister of tea, and Bucky wasn’t the least surprised when he smelled it was English Breakfast. He filled two mugs, grabbed a handful of “biscuits”, and joined Steve on the couch.

“Having tea and biscuits in England,” Steve commented, blowing to cool is tea. “I love living the cliché life.” 

Stepping out of the Baker Street tube station, the boys walked up to the street to the hard-to-miss Sherlock Holmes museum. The museum had a bored-looking guard outside, standing underneath the iconic golden “221B” above the door. The two bought their tickets, and headed up the stairs.

The “house” was filled with antique furniture and memorabilia with passages from the books alongside them. The floors were small, but the museum had about 5 to make up for it. Each floor had a different theme, and some even had wax figurines to showcase some of the most memorable cases. Steve took a picture of Bucky between two gruesome wax models pretending to have an amusing conversation.

At about the third floor there was two chairs with hats and pipes that you could pose with. Steve gave his camera over to another tourist, Bucky picked up the Sherlock hat and pipe, and Steve a bowler hat and magnifying glass. Bucky sat with a smirk, pipe just hovering above his lips, and he knew this would be a picture that will make him smile every time he sees it. He heard the shutter click, and snorted when he caught sight of Steve in that ridiculous bowler hat.

“Like you’re any better,” Steve scoffed.

After seeing all 5 floors, Bucky and Steve headed back down the winding stairs to the gift shop. The store had everything from classic souvenirs to BBC’s Sherlock on DVD. The two bought some small things like pens and keychains, and Steve bought a miniature Baker Street sign for Sam. 

“Alright,” Bucky huffed a breath of surprisingly warm London air, “Where to next?”

“Well, if we keep walking down this street we’ll eventually reach King’s Cross.”

“But it’s only May, there’s still 4 months until we have to go to school,” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, and used the most ridiculous pout that made Steve’s heart flip.

“Hey Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The intersections near Baker Street and London’s Madame Tussauds was bustling with traffic and tourists, but the road cleared the longer the two kept walking. Scattered sunlight lit up the sidewalks with only the occasional bus or taxi flying down the road to the right of them.

“Did Brock ever say goodbye before you left?”

Bucky snorted. “Are you kidding? He hasn’t talked to me since he found out I’m going on this trip with you and not him.”

Steve barked a laugh. “The fact that he thinks he’s even close to being competition with me is almost insulting.”

“Yeah,” Bucky stared down the road in thought. “What a douche.”

“And you guys were dating for what, 4 months? How didn’t I realize it sooner?”

Bucky looked over and saw the flames in Steve’s eyes, the same ones that come out whenever Steve’s getting ready to fight someone he knows he’ll never beat. Bucky could feel his smile climbing.

“I wish I could find a guy that cares about me as much as you, Steve.” Bucky looked forward to avoid eye contact, and he regretted saying it as soon as it came out of his mouth.

Steve tripped over the sidewalk and quickly recovered. “Uh, hey, isn’t this the street they filmed Sherlock on?”

Bucky was thankful for the change of subject, and to his left he could see the iconic red overhang of Speedy’s. The place was packed, whether it was with fans or just Londoners picking up their lunch. 

“Will we look like annoying tourists if we get a selfie in front of it?”

Bucky glared at him. “When will we ever see these people again?”

“Fair.”

They got an enthusiastic picture in front of the restaurant, and continued to head down Euston Road to King’s Cross. Conversation flowed back to normal, and Steve was more than grateful for it. He knew he would have to tell Bucky he’s bi sometime or another, but he didn’t think he’d have to do it during a trip where he sees Bucky every minute of every day. 

They walked for another 10 minutes down the sunlit streets, until they reached the impressive St. Pancras Station. The castle-like station was a coppery red, and caught the attention to everyone who walked past it.

“Who in their right mind would name a train station after an organ,” Bucky scoffed.

Steve stopped walking. “Bucky. Please read out to me what that sign says.”

“St. Pancreas,” Bucky read, as if it was obvious.

“I’m not even going to try to correct you,” Steve mumbled.

Across the street was King’s Cross station, a bit of a miss-matched building that wasn’t nearly as impressive as St. Pancras. Steve had no idea where Platform 9 ¾ was, and his anxiety flared up as they walked through the open entrance. Were they even allowed in here without a ticket? What if they never find it and wound up getting lost?

Bucky put his hand around Steve’s arm. “Hey, we’ll find it.”

Steve took a breath and continued pushing his way through the crowded station. 

The station was a mix of old and new, with a geometric ceiling and colourful lighting on the shopping side, and faded brick on the platform side. Steve was hoping they’d be able to keep walking forward and stumble upon the platform, and that’s exactly what happened.

There was a lineup of people in front of the cut-in-half carriage, with a photographer and an employee to hold up your scarf to make it look like you’re running. The line was long, about a 20 minute wait, but Bucky was determined to get his long-awaited Hogwarts picture.

The two watched the other tourists take their pictures, and Steve was relieved when he saw a girl put on a Ravenclaw scarf for her picture.

“Oh thank god you can pick which scarf you want, I was scared I couldn’t flaunt my Hufflepuff pride.”

Finally they reached the front of the line, and the scarf-holder was motioning Steve to come through. He clumsily gave Bucky his camera, and asked for his Hufflepuff scarf. Steve posed with one leg up and a surprised expression, then quickly ran over to take Bucky’s place. Bucky wore the classic Gryffindor scarf, and when it was time for his picture, he jumped so high he was above the handles of the carriage. Steve took a perfectly timed photo, and laughed a little too loud when he saw the result.

Walking out in higher spirits when they came in, Steve and Bucky stood in the King’s Cross courtyard figuring out what they should do for the rest of the day.

“Personally I’m starving,” Bucky commented. “So I don’t mind walking back to the hostel and finding somewhere to eat along the way.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve antagonized, shouldering his way through the crowded courtyard. “You ready to try that traditional English food? Some nice tasty beans?”

“I would rather rip off my left arm than eat beans with you.”

Bucky and Steve made their way through the unfamiliar London streets with Steve only checking his map app only every once and a while to make sure they’re still heading the right way. The walk was a little longer than Steve expected, and his feet started to ache as they reached Northumberland Avenue (Bucky scoffed at the name again). They made their way up the spidery Golden Jubilee Bridges, and Bucky was again taken away by the beautiful view of the river. Steve was telling some story of a bully from eight grade, but Bucky was only half-listening as he kept his attention to sparkling river below him. 

Walking along the same street as the entrance to Waterloo Station, Steve saw something that made his let out an overly-dramatic gasp.

“What is it?” Bucky scanned the street. “Who did you see? Adele?”

“Look!” Steve said pointing to a restaurant. “Gourmet Burger Kitchen!”

Remembering the beautiful burgers they had in Dublin, the two ran across the street and eagerly waited for a table. Once seated, the waiter told them about how to order: go up to the counter with your table number, and order your food and pay for it there. The two thought this restaurant was a bit odd, but they knew that the delicious burgers would be worth it. Opening the menus, Steve was annoyed to see everything was different from the Dublin location.

“Okay I’m not trying to be dramatic here, but they don’t have the burger I got last time and I feel like dying a little bit,” Steve deadpanned.

“Same here!” Bucky dropped his menu on the table. “And even the regular burgers are like double the price!”

They pouted at each other, grudgingly picked what they wanted, and Steve huffed to go place their order. After paying for both of them, Steve saw that you have to pick up your own jug of water and cups. He scoffed, and took the water over to their table.

“So is this a normal English thing? Or were they just too lazy to hire any waiters?” 

Bucky took a sip. “I don’t know, but I do know this water is warm and taste like garbage juice.”

“Comparing this to the incredible burgers we had in Dublin, I don’t think I’ve ever been more so disappointed than I am now.”

“Not even when Zayn left One Direction?”

“Nope. Not even then.”

Eventually their food came, and the two ate their mediocre burgers in silence. They finished eating, threw down a measly £2 tip, and Bucky’s feet protested as they got up to walk the final stretch back to the hostel. 

“Did you know we get 25% off drinks at the bar in our hostel?” Steve asked, keeping his shoulders close to Bucky’s as they walked down a particularly sketchy road.

“Well, I know what I’m doing tonight.”

Finally reaching The Walrus, Steve felt the warmth of home which he never felt walking into Abigail’s. Bucky’s heavy boots barely made it up the stairs to their room, and Steve had to drag him up the last couple of steps. They collapsed onto their bunks, and Steve went to check his Facebook. He saw that Sam replied to his message saying “next restaurant you go to, write ‘I LOVE U’ in his fish n chips”.

Steve: you’re right, there’s no possible way that could end badly!!!

Sam: I know! either that or drunkenly tell him

Steve: that’s even better!!!!!!!!!!!

Sam: :D

Steve snorted, and saw Bucky climbing down the bunkbed ladder. He awkwardly stepped between two other bunkbeds, and between two roommates that Steve assumed was a couple.

“Sorry, you guys have the closest outlet to charge my phone…” Bucky mumbled.

“That’s no problem,” the boyfriend smiled. “You guys American too?”

“Yup, New York. You guys?”

“Pittsburgh,” said the girlfriend. “I’m Lauren, this is Eric.”

“Bucky, and that’s Steve under there.”

“Well Bucky and Steve, what are you guys up to tonight?” Eric asked, excited he’s making new friends abroad.

“I think we were just going to get some discounted drinks from downstairs,” Bucky replied, almost embarrassed.

“Let’s all go together then! Lauren and I were just going to have a quiet night anyways.” Steve was laying low for this conversation, but even in that short time, Steve could tell Eric was a guy he’d love to have a drink with.

The four made their way down to the bar, but with the weather being so nice, they decided to sit out on a picnic table outside. Bucky got up to get them drinks, and Steve tried to make small talk with the strangers as he waited for his much-needed drink. Bucky slid back onto the bench, and placed a mojito in front of Steve.

“Ah, you know me so well,” Steve smiled.

“So,” Lauren took a sip of her cocktail. “How long have you two been dating?” 

Steve looked at Bucky with widened eyes, a silent plead for help. Bucky laughed awkwardly.

“Uh, not dating. Just long-time best friends,” Bucky looked him in the eye. “Stevie here is straight as an arrow.”

Steve’s face heated up, and looked around to see everyone around the table looking at him. “Yup. Only love those ladies.”

Like some sort of saving grace, more guests came outside and asked to join them at the table. One was a girl from Australia travelling by herself, and two twin brothers. The night carried on without incident, good conversation and good drinks. By the time the group was a bit drunk, there had already been a hugging contest, one of the twins crying about his child back home, and the realization that the twins went to the same high school as Eric. The three of them were excitedly talking about one particularly crazy party of a mutual friend while the rest looked at them in confusion. The fact that three people from the same high school meet 8 years later in the same hostel in London was just too much for everyone’s drunk minds to comprehend.

Conversation fizzled out at around midnight, and everyone stumbled back into their rooms. Bucky, Eric and Lauren continued talking while they got ready for bed, but Steve was absolutely done for the day.

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.” Steve picked up his American Olympic beanie, pulled it over his eyes, and flopped into bed.

Eric started laughing hysterically. “What the hell is that?!”

Steve slid the beanie over one eye. “You laughin’ at my patriotism son?” Eric went into another laughing fit.

“Of all things to wear to sleep, why that?” 

“Because a) it blocks out all sunlight and b) it muffles sound, like your unsolicited opinions.”

There was a chorus of “ooooooh!”s and Steve fell asleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think Bucky and Steve's Hogwarts houses were correct? Why or why not?  
> (Short Answer, 5 Marks)


	7. London: Day 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE I LOVE U ALL!!!!!!!!!!!

“No pictures!” an employee barked. Steve was pointing his camera at the impressive ceiling of the National Gallery and almost dropped it as he quickly shoved it back into his backpack. Steve mumbled an apology, and he and Bucky walked up the steps into the first room of paintings.

Each wing of the gallery was split up into different centuries of paintings, and the two started in the renaissance section. Although this wasn’t Bucky’s favourite era of art, seeing the monstrous paintings in front of him was something else. Some were as small as a typical movie poster and some reached as high as the ceiling, but the two always made sure to read the history behind each painting. 

Steve’s feet we getting sore and he walked over to the benches in the middle of the room to give them a rest. Looking around the gallery, he realised that every room was a different colour and had their own style of glass ceiling. The wooden floors were faded and sunken in some places, but Steve expected as much since the gallery has been open for almost 200 years. Steve could see Bucky through the crowd waving him into the next room, and Steve groaned as his feet flared in pain from their long walk the day before.

Bucky and Steve slowly made their way through each room, marveling at the realism of some of them, cracking jokes as the weird-looking renaissance babies. Eventually they made their way into the 1800-1900 wing, and Bucky’s eyes widened as he made his way to Monet’s “The Water-Lily Pond”.

Steve watched as Bucky’s smile widened, his eyes scanning over each brush stroke. The first thing that popped into Steve’s mind is what a nerd Bucky is, and the second was how goddamn cute he looked in that moment. Shuffling from painting to painting, smiling as if they’re the best things he’s ever seen. Steve wondered if this is how he looks when he looks at Bucky. His cheeks heated up as he made his way to Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers”. Steve was admiring the gnarly looking flowers when he felt someone stand behind him.

“Can you believe we’re seeing Van Gogh in the flesh,” Bucky whispered. 

“Can you believe what a fucking nerd you are,” Steve replied, reading the painting’s biography.

“One day, when we’re not in a famous museum, I’m gonna fight you.”

“Okay, getting Natasha to fill in for you doesn’t count though.”

Bucky jokingly glared at him, and crossed the room to the next set of paintings.

The two finished the tour in the gift shop, eyeing the overpriced merchandise and grabbing a museum map to put in their travel journals. Walking out the front doors, the two were hit with the blinding sunlight and the constant hum of noise coming from Trafalgar Square. The square had two fountains on each side, the tall Lord Nelson statue surrounded by its four bronze lions, and a sliver of Big Ben peeking out from behind the distant buildings. They made their way across the square, stopping to watch some of the buskers, and went to get a picture in front of one of the lions. The square was crawling with people, and the two actually had to wait for an opening to get a seat alongside a lion. Steve had warned Bucky ahead of time that tourists were banned from climbing on the backs of them, so Bucky politely sat beside one, smile wide and his hands folded in his lap. Steve snorted at him.

Bucky hopped down from the statue and Steve turned the camera around for Bucky to see the picture.

“You honestly look like an excited 4-year-old.”

Bucky threw up his arms. “You told me to be polite to the lions!” 

Every small walk they made seemed to drag for Steve, whose feet were screaming with every step he took. Ignoring Steve’s whines, Bucky excitedly led them to the British Museum to see the Parthenon Marbles. Although the two of them were skeptical of why there were so many exhibits from countries that weren’t Britain, they appreciated their beauty all the same. 

On their way back to the hostel, they made a stop in Neal’s Yard: a colourful courtyard in Covent Garden, and a very posh tea store where Bucky bought some English Breakfast to bring home to his mom. Stopping at the local Tesco to buy some frozen dinners and some discount liquor (London was more expensive than they thought, ok?), the two collapsed into their bunks as soon as they made it back to The Walrus. Appreciating the alone time, Bucky put on some music and opened up Facebook, excited to see Natasha online.

Bucky:  
help me

Natasha:  
are you in a hostage situation? are you starring in Taken 4?

Bucky:  
no steve keeps whining about his feet

Natasha:  
yeah and you always whine about steve being too cute, what’s the difference

Bucky:  
my whining is legitimate!!!!!!!!

Natasha:  
ok a) it’s not and b) just tell the punk already

Bucky:  
great idea!!!! I’ll just tell my STRAIGHT best friend of whom I still have 12 more days of seeing him every minute of every day on this godforsaken trip that I’ve casually been in love with him since i first met him!!!!!

Natasha:  
actually you’re right, in romcoms they always confess their love AFTER they get home. forgot. sorry.

Bucky:  
do i really need to remind you that he is STRAIGHT

Natasha:  
a straight man that goes to gay bars with you

Bucky:  
because I asked him to! if he says he’s straight, he’s straight. don’t force sexualities onto people, i raised u better than this.

Bucky felt a light kick from underneath his mattress and took out a headphone. “Yeah?”

Steve hesitated. “Why did Natasha send me the IMDB page for the movie Leap Year?”

 

After enjoying their alone-time and a rest for their feet, the two made their way upstairs to the hostel kitchen. The kitchen was as big as a closet, with a stove that felt like it took 4 years to heat up, and a fridge full of food covered in post-its of various people’s names. They took turns putting their frozen meals in the ancient oven, chatted with a few people who came in for snacks, and Bucky made the mistake of drinking water out of the tap (“Why does London water continue to taste like garbage juice?”). The two finished their lasagna with the pride of saving £10 on dinner and a hint of embarrassment when Steve remembered the liquor they bought earlier.

“Okay so we bought ourselves peach schnapps and 7-Up, but what are we going to do with it?”

“Drink it,” Bucky replied without looking up from his phone. 

Steve glared at him. “I mean, are we going out tonight?”

“I am literally looking up gay bars as we speak,” Bucky mumbled. 

Steve’s stomach dropped. “Oh, okay, yeah. Sure.”

Bucky flicked his eyes up. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Steve thought the look on Bucky’s face seemed challenging, like he was expecting a certain answer. “Uh, no? We’ve already seen drag queens, I’m sure a couple more gay bars won’t hurt.”

“Alright,” Bucky put his phone down. “Let’s get drinking then.”

 

Their rushed attempt to get as drunk as possible before leaving involved unevenly mixed drinks, a visit from Eric and Lauren, and a disgusting amount of burping from the 7-Up. Eventually they (dizzily) put on some nicer clothes and headed to the tube station. They took the Bakerloo Line up to Piccadilly Circus which lead to the neighbourhood of Soho, London’s gay district. 

The streets of Soho were narrow and dimly lit, some restaurants and clubs proudly hanging their rainbow flags outside. Bucky felt the unease in his stomach as the two walked through the dark streets, the place relatively empty being a Wednesday night. Each club or bar they went into had a weird vibe. They were either too dark, too loud, or full of middle-aged men. Bucky was feeling like their night-out has been a bust, and he wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders apologetically. Maybe it was the schnapps still running through his system, but Bucky felt horrible for dragging Steve along to all these gay bars and not even having a good time doing it. They walked with their arms around each other for a few more streets, until they saw a sign for a bar named “Him”. 

They paid £2 at the door, then walked down the long stairs into a dim but nicely decorated bar. The music was fun but not too loud, had lots of room, and a nice mix of ages and genders. Steve and Bucky bashfully walked up to the bar, hesitant on what to order. Steve was trying to convince the bartender to make him a mojito when Bucky saw a sign for “Shot Roulette”, which was 6 unknown shots for £12. Bucky nudged Steve and pointed to the sign, and Steve raised his eyebrows in return. They both fished £6 out of their wallets, and soon the bartender placed 6 mysterious shots in front of them. 

Steve picked up a shot and held it in the air. “To the gays.”

Bucky laughed and clinked his glass against Steve’s. The first two rounds tasted fine, but when it came to the third, they both sniffed their glasses and grimaced.

“I am absolutely positive the bartender accidentally served me lighter fluid,” Bucky commented, almost gagging.

“Yeah and this just straight up smells like ass, wanna switch?” Steve suggested.

They hesitantly switched glasses, and Bucky was surprised to find his shot tasted mostly of liquorice. Meanwhile, Steve had to put his hand in front of his mouth to keep him from spitting it out. 

They put their shot glasses back on the bar and thanked the bartender, then found a quiet corner table. They slumped down in their booth watching some middle-aged women dancing to Motown, content in their warm drunken grogginess. 

“Have I said thank you to you yet?” Steve mumbled.

“Hmm?” Bucky replied lazily, rolling his head toward Steve.

“I haven’t thanked you yet. For this trip.”

Bucky snorted. “You’re the one who planned all of it.”

“Yeah, but you’re making it worthwhile,” Steve started fidgeting with his hands. “You’re the one making this trip what it is, and you put up with me and my anxiety and all the other bullshit I come along with.”

Bucky was still watching the women on the dancefloor, but put his hand on Steve’s knee and squeezed.

“Like I know I make fun of you most of the time, but it’s all out of love,” Steve chuckled.

“When has us bickering meant anything other than brotherly love?”

Steve could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any of you seen ugly renaissance babies? If not, then boy do I have you covered: http://uglyrenaissancebabies.tumblr.com/
> 
> Also I'm so sorry this update took so long, my only excuse is that I started watching The Great British Bake Off. I'm sure you can all understand.


	8. London: Day 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAOOOOOOOOOO I LITERALLY DON'T EVEN HAVE AN EXCUSE AS TO WHY THIS TOOK 9 MONTHS TO UPDATE

Steve was desperately trying to shove all of his dirty laundry into his backpack. “Did you get your phone charger?”

“You’ve asked me that about 3 times already.”

Steve had to sit on top of his overloaded backpack to try and zip it up. “Well, you do have a knack for losing your stuff. I’m pretty sure you’ve ‘lost’ your phone about 7 times now.”

Bucky glared at him. “Anyways, why are we even changing hostels?”

Steve stopped mid-zip. “I… don’t remember. I know one of the hostels was full for the weekend so we had to change, that’s all I remember.”

Bucky groaned. “But I actually love this place! So close to everything! Discounted drinks!”

“Ok but get this: the new place has on-site laundry,” Steve raised his eyebrows. Bucky glared.

The two lugged their enormous backpacks down the stairs, put them in the luggage room, and started their last breakfast at The Walrus. Bucky loaded up on the Nutella-on-toast, and Steve tried to down as many cups of English Breakfast as he could. Looking around the common area, Steve was going to miss staying there. The warm atmosphere it gave off, the actual human-sized showers, the respectable guests, Steve started regretting his choice to move hostels halfway between their time in London. Although their new hostel was in a different part of London which meant newer sights to see, Steve would have been completely content staying at The Walrus for their entire 8-night stay.

Being their last day in the Westminster area, Bucky and Steve took the opportunity to ride the iconic London Eye. The weather was uncharacteristically warm, especially in May, and the walk to River Thames was peaceful in the morning sun. Approaching the Eye, the crowds became denser. They could see the lineup for tickets going out the door, and the Eye was looming over them, impressive as it filled most of the sky. After buying their (overpriced) tickets, they walked back outside to wait in line in the sun. While waiting, Bucky noticed that the Eye never actually stops spinning. When your capsule comes around, you have about a 10 second window for everyone to pile in. Bucky was quite amused watching people try and stumble in while the capsule kept moving beneath them.

When their capsule finally came around, Steve and Bucky tried to shuffle on as fast as they could so they could get a window spot before the 10 other passengers crowded them out. The capsule moved slowly, and started ascending on the side with the Golden Jubilee Bridges: the wiry bridge the two usually used to walk back to the hostel. As they crawled towards the top of the wheel, they could almost see the entire city of London. Big Ben and the Parliament buildings off to the left, the murky River Thames beneath them, and even Buckingham Palace and the National Gallery if they squinted hard enough. Coming around the side of Big Ben, Steve could see Bucky staring intently at the impressive building. He took out his camera, and captured Bucky’s profile and face reflecting in the glass, Big Ben blurred in the distance. The picture turned out perfect and Steve smiled to himself, knowing Bucky was going to be embarrassed when he shows it to him. Their pod started its descent, and the whole ride lasted about 30 minutes.

“Well,” Bucky sighed, walking down the stairs to flat ground. “That was an overpriced tourist trap, but I’d be pretty pissed if we didn’t do it.”

The two walked back down the sunny streets back to The Walrus, picked up their bags, and headed towards the tube station. Luckily the new hostel was just across the street from another station, so the walk with their back-breaking bags wasn’t too strenuous.

The Dover Castle Bar and Hostel was far from a castle, with red brick walls on the corner of a fairly quiet street in Southwark. The interior was simple, the bar having a more traditional look. Like The Walrus, Dover Castle didn’t have an elevator, so the two had to drag their backpacks up three flights of stairs to their room which was nothing special: white walls, plain bunks, and one lone fan blowing warm air throughout the room. After sliding their bags under the bunks and several attempts at connecting to the wifi, the two decided to scout-out their new neighbourhood. Steve saw on his map app that Tower Bridge wasn’t too far, and they walked back out onto the sunny streets in higher spirits than they walked in.

The streets of Southwark were much sparser than the busy streets of Westminster, mostly lined with boring brick-lain condominiums. Heading up Tower Bridge Road, the shops became more prominent and the traffic thickened. Passing a whole matter of things including a cemetery (Bucky annoyingly sang “Cemeteries of London” into Steve’s ear as they walked past), they could see the one of the iconic towers looming in the distance.

Tower Bridge was crowded with tourists and traffic alike, the Thames sparkling beside the oddly shaped buildings lining the river. With the constant noise of traffic and passersby knocking into them, the two decided to walk down the bridge’s stairs to the minuscule park beside the bridge.

The “park” was a splash of green beside city hall, scattered with people soaking up as much sun as they could.  Steve and Bucky laid their backpacks on an empty area and Steve took a few pictures of the surroundings. Feeling the exhaustion of their day’s adventures and the tireless sun above them, the two put their backpacks behind their heads and closed their eyes. Steve put on Young the Giant’s “Mind Over Matter” on his iPod, thinking how the more he listens to that song, the more it embodies this trip.

Steve awoke with hot cheeks and a sweaty forehead, eyes squinting at the hot sun above him. Sitting up, the first thing Steve saw was Tower Bridge, the realization of being in England hitting him in the chest. Until you see world-famous landmarks like that, it’s hard to remember exactly how far away you are from home. Steve looked beside him to see Bucky still snoozing, cheeks red and hands on his stomach. Steve propped himself up on his elbows and admired his friend and his beautiful surroundings, finally realizing how privileged he is to be here with the person that means the most to him. He lazily watched the traffic make its way over the bridge, idly thinking back to his promise to tell Bucky about his little secret. Steve groaned inward. He didn’t even want to think of the repercussions this secret will have. In Steve’s defense he didn’t know he was bi until about 3 years ago, but that’s still 3 years of lying to your best friend. Would Bucky understand? Would he pack up and leave? Steve laid back down.

After what felt like another 15 minutes, Steve got impatient with Bucky’s nap. Looking over at him, Steve noticed his nose becoming ridiculously red. Steve got his sunscreen bottle from his backpack and wiped a glob on Bucky’s nose.

Bucky stirred, wiping his nose with a disgusted “eugh”. Then his face softened, and said “Oh, it’s sunscreen.”

Steve stared at him. “What else would it be?”

“Uh,” Bucky’s face somehow went a shade redder, “nothing.”

“Can you keep your sexual fantasies to yourself please?”

Bucky threw his backpack at him.

 

Bucky laid in his bottom bunk, thankful for whenever the fan blew some air his way. The London heat wave sucked the energy from both of them, leaving them glued to their mattresses and unwilling to move for the rest of the evening. Bucky’s eyes glazed over his Facebook feed when Natasha grabbed his attention.

**Natasha:**

so have you told him how massively in love with him you are yet

**Bucky:**

when will u leave me the fuck alone

**Natasha:**

i’m just trying to further the plot, let a girl live

**Bucky:**

my life isn’t a romcom nat

**Natasha:**

are you sure?

**Bucky:**

didn’t i already ask you to leave me alone?

**Natasha:**

listen: go out tonight, get wasted, drunkenly tell him. works every time

**Bucky:**

name one time when that has worked

**Natasha:**

worked for clint and i ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Bucky:**

ok that doesn’t count because ur both fucking weird

Bucky locked his phone and stared at the bunk above him. The thought of going out tonight caused his head to pound a bit harder, still throbbing from the excess sun-exposure during the day. He quickly Googled “london pub crawls” for future reference and had an onslaught of results appear. First result showed the Camden pub crawl, which Bucky knew was a bit too far away from them. Next was the Shoreditch pub crawl.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“How far away is Shoreditch?”

“Uh, across the river from us I think?”

Perfect. Bucky hit the link to get more info, seeing the admission price was £10 and the next crawl was on Friday night.

“Hey what day is it?”

Steve snorted. “Friday.”

Shit.

“Why?”

“Uh, there’s a pub crawl happening in like an hour… Five bars and 5 shots for £10.”

Steve sat up, “That is a ridiculously good deal. We’re going.”

“Noooooooooooooo,” Bucky groaned, “we’ve already done so much today! I’ve reached my quota!”

“Sucks,” was all Steve said.

 

After much convincing and a considerable amount of whining, the two made their way to the pub crawl’s meeting point: a Chinese bar called the Drunken Monkey. Never actually been on a pub crawl before, Steve and Bucky awkwardly stood outside until they saw any sign of a group. Having been 10 minutes early, they actually arrived before the guide, and in turn received two drinking tickets each for being the first to arrive.

The inside of The Drunken Monkey was crowded and warm, Chinese lanterns swinging from the ceiling. They quickly took advantage of their 2 free drinks, receiving coffee-like shots from the clearly overworked bartender. Finding a spot that wasn’t inhabited by middle aged men, they observed the dimly lit bar for any sign of fellow pub crawl attendees. Steve pointed out guys for Bucky, Bucky brushed the options off (much to Steve’s relief), and the guide soon gathered them all up to head to the next pub.

There was about 10 people in total, including Steve, Bucky, and the guide. Steve assumed that having it be such a lovely day, people were exhausted from the sun and had no intention of going back outside again.

The group twisted around Shoreditch, the streets busy on a Friday night and Bucky was already drunk enough to not even register where they were going. After about a 10 minutes, the group walked into a very small, red pub that would normally be invisible if you hadn’t been looking for it. There was no one else inside, as if the pub was specifically waiting for the group to arrive. Whilst everyone crowded the poor bartender to receive their free shots, the very small dance floor came to life and the music started thumping. The two quickly downed their shot, bought another drink, and sat on the L-shaped couch beside the minuscule dance floor. Bucky went over to the bathroom, which left Steve alone on the couch with a very bored-looking girl.

“Here for the pub crawl?” Steve shouted.

She gave him a look. “What?”

“Are you here with the pub crawl?” Steve pointed to his wristband, anxiety growing.

“No, I’m just here with my friends.” She turned towards the dancefloor and took a sip of her drink.

This conversation was one of the most awkward ones Steve has ever experienced but his drunken state wouldn’t let him give up. “So, not a dancer, huh?”

“No,” the girl said flatly, avoiding Steve’s gaze.

Steve sunk back into the couch and tried to focus on the horrible dancers rather than his horrible attempt at flirting.

Bucky walked out of the bathroom like some saving grace. He gave Steve a look of “you alright?” and Steve turned his eyes towards the girl and gave a pleading look.

Bucky sat down beside him and yelled to the girl: “So, you here for the pub crawl?”

Steve could have died right then and there.

She glared at Bucky. “No. I’m just here with my friends.”

“Ah, so you’re not a dancer, huh?” Bucky tried smoothly.

Before the girl could even open her mouth, Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and dragged him through the bar to the patio outside.

“What?” Bucky took his hand back. “I thought that was going pretty well.”

“Trust me, she wasn’t interested.” Steve leaned his head against the wall, then rolled it towards Bucky to see him lighting a cigarette.

“Where the hell did you buy those?!”

Bucky looked at him innocently. “Did you not see me buying them when we were at Tescos? Still, it’s only for when I’m really drunk.”

“And you’re already really drunk?”

Bucky grinned. Steve scoffed.

“Fine. Gimme one of those. When in Europe, I guess.” Bucky handed him one and lit it for him, the both of them warming their lungs in silent bliss.

“Girls are just impossible sometimes, you know?” There was a slight slur to Steve’s voice. “I’m so glad I have some variety.”

Bucky’s heart skipped but kept his voice even. “Yeah, New York is pretty diverse. A lot to choose from.”

Steve snorted. “Nah, I mean like… Nevermind.”

“No it’s ok, no judging here. Ever.” Bucky took a drag with shaky fingers.

Steve took a deep breath. “Well I’ve known for a while, well not a _while_ like obviously not my whole _life_ but like long enough for it to mean a lot to me and for it to be a big deal and-“

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?”

Steve took a drag with wide eyes. “I’m…… queer. Well. Bi, specifically.”

Bucky stared out across the dark street while he processed the information. A smile tugged at his lips but hid it with his cigarette.

“… Can you say something, please?”

“Oh!” Bucky snapped out of his daze. “That’s… Amazing. I’m so glad you told me that.”

“Yeah?” Steve smiled. “So you’re not mad?”

Bucky looked at him. “Why would I ever be mad?”

Like Bucky could ever be mad about news like this. Just wait until he tells Natasha.

“Because I didn’t tell you. Sooner.”

“Eh, I’ll get over it. Sometimes you need a year to figure yourself out, right?”

Steve swallowed. “Uh, yeah. It was a pretty rough year.”

The guide then came out the front door with the group in tow, headed to their 3rd bar.

“Well,” Bucky threw his arm around Steve. “I think this calls for some celebration.”

And celebrate they did. Maybe too much. Here’s a collection of Bucky’s coherent thoughts for the rest that night:

 

  * 3rd bar: ???
  * 4th bar: ???
  * 5th bar: Brazilian theme. Bucky was drunk enough that when he asked two men to buy him a drink, they only offered him water.
  * The Brazilian music went so hard that Steve and Bucky found themselves a corner and danced their fucking asses off.
  * Found out the tube was closed for the night, decided to walk home in an unfamiliar part of London.
  * Found a 24 hour Subway.
  * Somehow managed to order, pay, and eat a 6-inch sub within 5 minutes.
  * Somehow managed to find their way back to the hostel.



The two snuck their way up to the kitchen, falling into the side of the stairwell as they went. They stood by the sink trying to chug as much water as they could before going to bed, giggling.

“’M so glad we went tonight,” Steve slurred.

“Yeah, me too.” They smiled at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAPPENED Y'ALL!!!!!!!!!
> 
> tumblr: bucckysbutt.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! There's more adventures to come!


End file.
